


Eyes

by Fanforlife84



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 21:30:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19484419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanforlife84/pseuds/Fanforlife84
Summary: Not sure where this is going but watching old movies with Ewan McGregor has me feeling inspired!  Will probably devolve into Explicit before we're through!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing. Please don't sue me, Disney!

She ached.

Every single part of her ached. From Her little toe (most likely bruised and broken, wedged inside her heavy magboots) to her smallest nose hair (singed and making her eyes water from the stinging). 

She ached.

‘How do I keep ending up here?’ She thought to herself. ‘This has all become so familiar. It even smells the same.’ 

For a moment, she allowed herself to get lost in the most visceral of memories that wafted on the air. The acrid smoke brought images of countless dead: those she knew and those she did not. The smell of blood turned her mouth metallic and took her to a dark room, her fingers entwined with another’s, crying at the sacrifice that another was willing to make to save her. The smell of heavy material, weighed down and drenched with sweat and rain led her memory to another dark room lit only by a single thermolamp in one corner, casting shadows on the walls of two bodies in ecstasy; rediscovering one another after so many years. 

She closed her eyes for a moment and allowed herself to feel at peace, for just one moment, even if it meant remembering him, his smell, his touch, his eyes. Thinking of him brought her peace and damn it if she didn’t think she deserved at least a moment of peace every now and then. She breathed in deeply and tried to smell in her memory, again, the sweet scent of Janoobian Lilac outside the window, warm and wet with the morning dew. The soft, musk that was all man that seemed to radiated off of his warm body, his fingers tracing her collarbone languidly as his mouth moved across her belly, lower and lower down her body until…

She shook her head as if to dash that particular memory away. In doing so, she caught an extraordinary whiff of rot and cauterized, cooking skin….laser blast wounds. As she was overcome by a fit of coughs, her eyes swam with tears and the wind jerked loose strands of her pitch black hair from their restraints, causing them to whip wildly across her face. As her coughing ceased, she sighed and halfheartedly huffed in an attempt to remove the strands from across her face and to bring her watering eyes under control. She was suddenly so exhausted she couldn’t even bring herself to lift her arm to swipe the wayward hair away from her eyes.

When her vision started to come back into focus, she felt her stomach drop and her breath catch. For a moment, she thought she had accidentally cast. That she had exerted her power and somehow flung it out across the universe and stars and had manifested his likeness in spirit form right here in front of her. But if that were true, wouldn’t he have looked….well….younger. Like he had in those daydreams she had been having only moments before.

No, this man was more toned, stood slightly taller (and at the same time, heavier, as though a great weight on his shoulders.) His hair was shorter (and lighter with hints of grey at the temple,) than the last time she had seen him. She remembered how the length of his long hair had so often been something they squabbled over; something she had appreciated on the back of his head…(It made it easier to steer) but that on his face made it almost impossible to enjoy kisses on her inner thighs (or any kiss, anywhere for that matter!) The beard on this man, though long, was much more carefully groomed…and this man, wearing white clone armor...no! He would never be without his robes…

‘It can’t be!” She thought.

Suddenly another gust of wind, this time bringing with it the sound of his name….she heard it in her heart first, before she heard it with her ears. As her legs began to weaken and her body to sway, she heard his name on the air in a familiar whisper.

As she fell into the blackness, she realized that she had not conjured a spirit image of him…it was really him standing on the far side of the battlefield staring back at her. She realized he was real when she saw a reflection of her own confusion and memory in his eyes as they stared back at her. 

His eyes.

Exactly as they had looked at her across another battlefield all those years ago when she had gotten her first look at him. They had been such different people then; so young. But his eyes had always remained the same. Those eyes that held so much; that she had seen shine with emotions no one else in the universe had ever borne witness to. In her memories and in her dreams she saw those eyes. She would recognize those eyes out of a billion clones.

It really was him. 

The familiar whisper that had preceded her descent into the blackness had been the sound of her own voice breathing his name.

“Obi-Wan….”


	2. The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't sue me, Disney! I own no one, I just love Star Wars and Ewan as Obi!

*** Twenty Three Years earlier ***

It never failed to surprise her the number of perverts that float to the surface when a pretty girl appears in a dingy, underground cantina on an average night. 

She caught another glance at herself as she threw her head back in an exaggerated laugh. The sweaty, balding, paunchy man next to her was some sort of gangster; big ego and big money, that’s all she really needed to know about him. She had been working him the last thirty minutes or so and seemed to be making pretty good progress. She’d gotten several drinks and a few bumps of Luze Powder out of the interaction (although to be honest, she much rather could have gone for some food), but stuffing her face would not have been quite as appealing as the dark-eyed, red lipped personality she was putting forth now. She knew she would get a few meals out of this guy, too, all in good time. She was certain she could get some money, perhaps some jewelry to sell, a well-stocked supply of low market drugs, an unending bar tab, and eventually a ride off planet to skip on to the next unsuspecting bar patron. What she would have to do in return still remained to be seen. But she knew she could get far with a mere suggestion. Men could always be convinced to buy a lot of things when they believed they would be having sex because of it.

‘Yep, plenty of perverts to go around in here tonight.’ Zena thought to herself as she tipped back her drink and caught a glance at her surroundings behind her reflected in the stained purple glass behind the bar. Her eyes scanned the other bar goers, drifting for a moment longer on a hooded figure sitting alone at a small corner table. ‘He’s still there! What is he watching for?!’  
The figure had been sitting, unmoving since Zena had entered over two hours ago. Though she didn’t know for sure, she believed “he” was a humanoid male, judging from the glimpse of a chin she could see beneath the hem of the dark brown hood. She could see no more of his face, though, and his head did not track or move over the crowd of comers and goers, giving the false appearance that perhaps the figure was asleep. Zena knew better, though.

Her mother and grandmother, when they were alive, had always spoken to her about trusting her “woman’s magic”, that feeling inside her that told her when something was wrong. Others may call it “women’s intuition,” but Zena knew that it was a magic she possessed; one she felt now as she gazed at the reflection of the robbed figure beneath hooded eyes over the rim of her glass as she drained her drink. That “feeling” had been wriggling around in her gut for the last ten minutes; as though a small voice in her head was whispering to her:

‘No! No, not him! Don’t go with him!’

She smiled coyly at her mark as he leaned in close to her and offered to buy her yet another drink. His breath stank, his eyes were bloodshot and glassy, unfocused (most likely a reaction to whatever harder drug he had consumed prior to her encountering him). She felt his hot breath and slimy tongue on the side of her neck as he moved his body closer to hers; she felt a sharp in her gut.  
‘Get away! Now!’

She laughed uneasily and tried to hide her unease by shoving playfully at the gangster; encouraging him to get her that new drink he had offered. He gave in and as he turned away to get the bartender’s attention, Zena snatched up the drink of the bar patron on the other side of her. The scaley Rodian’s attention was on the screens of podracing and he didn’t notice as she slid his glass to the edge of the bar so that it would conveniently spill all over her front when he moved his elbow. She gasped and made a show of trying to save her skin tight, too-short dress, then excused herself to go clean up in the toilet. Rather than heading to the toilets, though, she ducked into a curtained booth area that was momentarily vacant and peered carefully through the sheer material. 

She watched as the gangster slowly became aware of her absence, She watched as, even more slowly, the gangster came to the realization that she would not be returning to make good on the promises she had tantalize him with. Despite his dejected expression, Zena smirked at him from behind the curtain. ‘Sorry, Mr. Sudzo. Gotta go with Grannie’s words of wisdom on this one...if it doesn’t feel right, get out.’

As her mark stumbled his way further down the bar and away from her hiding place, she glanced once more towards the robed figure in the corner. To her surprise, his head seemed to be angled in her direction slightly. With his head turned, she was now able to more clearly see the lower half of his face; and she could now see the small grin that played across his lips as he almost imperceptibly seemed to nod in her direction. She started and took a startled step back, remembering with relief that she was behind a curtain. There was no way he was looking or nodding at her; she was completely concealed. There was no way he could be looking at her...right? She shook her head to herself and stepped back towards the curtain to make another assessment of the mysterious robe figure…

...Only to find his table empty, the hooded figure nowhere to be seen.


End file.
